


so let it out and let it in

by poesword



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Biphobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, bi harry potter, i cried while writing this if you couldn't tell, ive been feeling unValidated a lot today so take this fic and feel Validated with me, like slight angst tho, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 09:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poesword/pseuds/poesword
Summary: sometimes harry struggles





	so let it out and let it in

**Author's Note:**

> this is a self-indulgent, vent-art, semi-cathartic way of dealing with the fact that three ppl decided that i don't understand my own sexuality and tried to mansplain it to me (WILDLY incorrectly, might i add) while calling me "thick-headed" and many other names when i wouldn't listen to them. 
> 
> anyway, i will defend bi!harry with my entire life, so meet me behind a denny's parking lot if you wanna fite
> 
> trigger warnings:  
> -use of the q-slur (not used as a slur/derogatory remark)  
> -biphobia/biphobic remarks

There was a pain in his chest.

 

Harry wasn’t alarmed by the pain. It was a familiar hurt: a claw closing over his chest, squeezing tight until all the air was forced out, and his heart struggled to pump pump pump. It was accompanied by a wave of murky grey water, rising like a tsunami, then caving over on top of him. He felt like breathing should be impossible. He shouldn’t be here. But then he sees the slight rise and fall of his chest and it all feels like another nightmare he’d shoved to the dark recesses of his head only to sweep out from under the bed without realising. It was an all too familiar routine.

 

Ginny’s fingers dusted over his forehead, slowly bringing him back to the present. He was in his home, an apartment he’d gotten after Ginny had graduated Hogwarts three years ago. The two of them were lounging on their second-hand couch, late afternoon sun bathing their living room in pale golden light. Ginny’s attention was on the paperback book in her hand, gingerly turning the brittle pages every couple minutes with one hand, and idly running her fingers through Harry’s gentle curls with the other.

 

He shifted his weight, resting his head on her shoulder and pulling his knees up to his chest. Propping up his chin, he followed along with the words.

 

For a few minutes, that’s all they did. Basking in the distinct feeling of _home_ , Harry felt the ache in his body subside a little, and he pressed a chaste kiss to Ginny’s cheekbone.

 

She peered at him through her eyelashes, an eyebrow perking up with a twitch of her lips.

 

“You’ve been quiet for a while. Since we came back from town.” She turned the page. “Something the matter?”

 

Harry exhaled. He was certain that if Ginny were to twist her head just a smidgen, she’d see the exhaustion in his face, the doubt in his green eyes.

 

A few moments passed before Harry spoke up.

 

“You’re...you’re okay with me being...bi, right?”

 

Ginny’s finger froze where it was poised at the corner of the page. Her eyes met his, brown to green, umber to emerald.

 

“Of course I am. I love you because you’re _you._ Your sexuality is absolutely included in that love.”

 

She cupped his face with one hand, rubbing her thumb across his cheek before kissing him.

 

Harry melted into the kiss. A warmth spread throughout his body, tingly and cozy all over. It was a familiar feeling, but this time, it was one that was wholly welcome.

 

When Ginny pulled away, Harry clung to the warmth, wanting it to wash over the lingering aches.

 

“Why do you ask?” Ginny said, worry netted into her brows. “Did something happen?”

 

Harry averted his eyes.

 

“I just...I overheard some people in the town today...they were saying some stuff and,” Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes, “I know they weren’t talking directly at me or anything but...I don’t know. I just.” He opened his eyes to roll them, deciding to take the self-deprecating route. “I _internalized_ it. When do I ever not?”

 

He released a sad chuckle, fidgeting with a fraying thread sticking out of the couch cushions.

 

Ginny’s hands closed over his. She smoothed circles over the backs of his hands and, very softly said, “You can talk to me. Or anyone. Whatever you need.”

 

Harry contemplated on this. It was rare that he ever openly talked about his feelings, years of repressed emotions and untreated mental illness were factors _and_ results of this. But, it was a strange concept to him to talk about his struggle with his sexuality. He’s survived attempted murders, years of abuse and neglect with the Dursleys, months on the run terrified for his own life--why couldn’t he get past all the little comments about his attraction to more than one gender? Why was _this_ just as persistent as his nightmares and bad memories?

 

He’d never considered talking about it with anyone. When he came out, it was more of a ‘I’m-tired-of-keeping-this-a-secret-and-I’ve-already-been-through-a-lot-so-can-I-just-say- _screw_ - _it_?’ than anything. He hadn’t expected anyone to actually ask him questions or let him talk about it, at least not without a hint of prejudice lying beneath it all.

 

But here Ginny was. The love of his life, his matching pair. She cared. She _wanted_ to know. She _wanted_ him to talk about it, to be able to breathe without a hesitation before he even mentioned the word ‘bisexual.’

 

“While...while you went to buy some fresh fruits or something, I went by the little shops just outside the market, just to look around a bit for, I don’t know, something, and there was this store with a bunch of flags and t-shirts in the window. And on the window was this sign, something like, ‘Happy Pride Month,’ and then I realized that it was a store for me--for people _like_ me--and I decided to go in, just have a look around. There were these pins, with the bi flag on them, with little sayings and the like, and I picked one up. I was looking through a bunch of them, sort of lost in thought, and then I heard these guys outside the store. They were talking really loudly, one might’ve been drunk or something, and they were saying _awful_ things--disgusting, _terrible_ things--and I spotted an employee behind the counter, looked barely 17 and, _Merlin_ , Ginny, this kid looked bloody terrified, and I was fighting every instinct in my body to run out there and yell at them back because the thing was, Ginny--I was terrified, too. I heard them say that bi people were ‘greedy _creatures_ ’--like I wasn’t even _human_ , Gin--and going on about how bisexuals are confused, that bi girls only pretend to like other girls, and that boys aren’t even attracted to girls, and that it’s all a lie and that I’m-- _we’re_ \--just confused and unfaithful--Ginny, you tease me about this all the time: I am loyal to a _fault_! I literally _died_ because of that!--and I honestly just don’t know or understand how these people, who _obviously know fuck-all about anything queer_ , could _say_ all those things and be proud of it! It’s horrendous! It’s...vile! It makes me feel so _sick, Gin. I feel so much pain whenever I think about it, and I’m_ always _thinking about it, it never goes away. It never goes away…”_

 

Harry buried his head in his hands, letting the tears fall, hot and miserable, onto his shaking hands. His chest contracted with each hiccup, feeling like everything was caving in, collapsing inwards like a black hole, sucking in all the good and light and ripping it to shreds. Ginny wrapped her arms tight around him, murmuring reassurances into his hair, whispers caressing the edges of his ears.

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she said. “It’s okay, Harry. It’s okay.”

 

He cried longer than he thought he would. An hour flew by before he could finally lift his head, tears spent and feeling numb.

 

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I just dumped all of that on y--”

 

“You shouldn’t apologize,” Ginny interrupted. “You’re allowed to cry, Harry. You’re allowed to be upset.”

 

Harry nodded his head listlessly, rubbing his nose and taking a sudden interest in the cuff of his sweater.

 

“Harry,” Ginny stretched out his name, pulling his focus back to her face. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his forehead. She pulled back and said, “I’m proud of you. I know you’re not exactly comfortable talking about your feelings, but I want you to know that you are _wicked_ brave--you really are a Gryffindor.”

 

Harry allowed himself a smirk. “Was there ever any doubt of that? You’re talking to Mr. Most-Likely-to-Tell-My-Future-Boss-to-Bugger-Off.”

 

Ginny tossed her head back with a laugh, one that rumbled deep in her belly and fluttered loose. Harry loved her laugh--it was the sound of one hundred butterflies flapping their wings, the breeze strumming wind chimes--and gave him uncontainable joy each time he was the cause of it.

 

“Although,” he added, feeling much better than minutes ago, “I don’t think Hermione would be fazed much by it.”

 

“I think,“ Ginny grinned, “you could get in a few shocked expressions and speechless moments with the current Minister before Hermione finally gets elected into office.”

 

“Very true, Gin. I might just test that out a bit on my next shift.”

 

“As long as you save it in a pensieve for me to watch his reaction later, I’ll be alright with you risking getting sacked.”

 

Harry let out a bark of laughter. Ginny mussed up his hair, kissed him, then headed into their tiny kitchen to make some tea. Harry watched her bumble around, waving her wand to quickly rinse a mug then tilt the teapot over it. She caught his gaze over the rim of the mug as she lifted it to her lips, and sent a cheeky wink his way.

 

“Thank you, Gin," Harry said.

 

She smiled, eyes twinkling. “Anytime, love. I mean that.”


End file.
